Speaking In Tongues
Guided by Voices
TALK TO ME
š
Translated by Una Devlet
š
š
On a bus I'm going. It's bright down-town but very few people can be
seen. The shops are already closed and there aren't very many places to
go for a walk. I am riding. Enormous bulks of dark buildings: then black
narrower streets with lower houses go. Away I'm sailing, my boat is small.
I used to like it all: "There: far ahead:" Now I don't care.
A narrow hole man digs. A mistake has been hanging over our lives. Everyone
seems to have lived for something. Well, everyone... he who always looks
for excuses... A street, winter, darkness, dull window-panes, shadows behind
them... One is eating and drinking, another is sleeping, another is shouting
at the children: I keep driving. At first I thought over the way to escape
darkness: There had to be some light over there ahead... The bus jerks,
something has clattered under the wheels. I see rails and a switch tower
with a yellowish light in it: Halt! Who's there? Who?.. Away it has floated.
The darkness again: I am driving. I thought there were bright towns...
the sky... and the only thing I had needed was to escape from here. No,
blackness and darkness are inside me.
There is a man in the bus. We are two. An old man, his face is yellow:
- Speak to me...
I don't want to speak to him.
- I am scared:
I am scared too, but we have nothing to speak of... nothing.
- :I live with my wife: she looks after the house: sleeps at night...
I lie in bed. Am I thinking?.. No, the waves are rocking me: the awe is
rocking me: What will happen to her if I die: We vanish away into the dark.
Was it always this way? We did have faith... flied to light: You are young,
get out of here, g-e-t o-u-t... everything is poisoned here: I'd like to
believe in Doomsday. Everyone will be brought to book: However, I don't
believe in it either:
- Why... You can't think so, old chap...
I bend over... he is already asleep. No, no, no! I won't go as far
as the next stop: let me get off: The lights, town, voices, songs, laughter,
small adventures and devilry, even some success, proud are all behind long
ago: We have no ground under our feet. There are no excuses: Oh, don't:
Let it be a dream! I am feeling bright light on my face; someone is patting
my shoulder. You ticket, sir, please! Eh! How well! Yes, certainly, the
ticket. Here it is, h-e-r-e: And what about the old man? His face is white:
he is smiling:
- Are you feeling well? But I am scared. Talk to me: